


Swear Jar

by imfallingforyoureyes102



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Established Oliver Queen/Felicity Smoak, F/M, Fluff, Halloween, Married Oliver Queen/Felicity Smoak, Oliver Queen is a pushover, Oliver Queen/Felicity Smoak Family, Queen Family (Arrow) Feels, Soft Oliver Queen, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, dad!Oliver, mom!Felicity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-03
Updated: 2019-04-03
Packaged: 2020-01-01 08:35:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18332477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imfallingforyoureyes102/pseuds/imfallingforyoureyes102
Summary: The Queens and Roy debate what constitutes a swear word and what does not. Apparently, Oliver's babies know best."Sthwear jar, Daddy."(Or, Oliver accidentally lets a naughty word slip in front of his two toddlers, and it's his spitfire of a baby girl that has the Starling City vigilante reaching sheepishly for his wallet and paying his dues).





	Swear Jar

**Author's Note:**

> Hiya folks, this was a one shot that I already posted in a little ficlet, but I'm working on breaking that apart. I've made a few edits, hope you like it!

_“DAD-DY!”_

“Ooff,” Oliver lets out a grunt as his youngest child slams into his legs, propelling him backwards and into the wall.

“Dammit Roy, when they say trick or treat, you give them a treat, not a damn heart attack!”

Roy is caught up in a chuckle before Thea’s hand swipes the mask off of her boyfriend’s face, adding a sharp whack to his arm when he turns to face her and frowns.

“See Tommy? It’s just Uncle Roy,” Oliver says softly to his two-year-old son, crouching down and smoothing back the small boy's unkempt hair.

“That'sth not Unca Woy,” the small child sniffles, hugging Oliver’s leg like a lifeline, his snotty nose buried into his father’s knee. “It’sth ugly monsther.”

Oliver furrows his eyebrows, nodding along to his son in dead seriousness. “He  _is_  ugly.”

Oliver’s response earns him his own honorary whack from Thea, and it’s only when Felicity comes up behind the father-son duo with a four-year-old pirate princess in tow and a handful of Halloween crafts and decorations that they finally manage to make it through the front door and into Thea’s apartment.

“For the record," Roy's voice rings out from the living room. "I am not ugly.”

“For the record," Oliver counters quietly, a small smile dancing on his face, "I do not give a shit.”

It's the small chimes of “Sthwear jar, daddy” that let him know he's busted.

Oliver’s lips tighten into an amused frown as he turns in the direction of the two small voices. He raises an eyebrow at his kids’ expectant smiles, slowly pulling out his wallet, and fishes out a dollar before snapping the leather casing shut. He doesn't really know when he went from the feared and threatening vigilante of Starling City to the giant push-over of a marshmallow that his four-year old daughter can wrangle with one pointed eyebrow, but he also doesn't really care. 

Oliver's just dropping the green note into the jar when he feels a tug on his pants. When he glances down, it's to see a pair of bright blue eyes that match his own.

“Nuh-uh, Daddy," Anya says matter-of-factly, "We both said it. That means times two.”

“Baby, that’s not how it works.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Nuh-huh.”

“ _Nuh-huh._ ”

“ _Uh-huh_ – dammit,” Oliver snaps his mouth shut, lips tight as he tilts his head sideways at his grinning daughter. While it’s hard enough to win an argument now over which Frozen character is the best (Oliver insists it’s Pabbie, Anya swears by light itself that it’s Sven, Tommy promises it's Anna; Felicity thinks they’re all insane because  _it’s Olaf you three, are you blind?_ ), he can’t even begin to imagine what she’ll be like as a teenager.

Oliver shudders at the thought.

“Ooh, Daddy, you sthaid anotha bad word,” Tommy taunts in his adorable lisp, eyes bright and smile wide.

“Now it’s times 4.”

“Anya, baby, you skipped a number,” Felicity starts.

Oliver’s “That’s not a swear word,” cuts her off.

“Oliver,  _yes_ , it is.” Felicity replies sweetly to her husband, pinching his leg and raising her eyebrows.

“No its no-,”

“Dammit. Dam-mit. Dammmmit.”

“Damn damn damn damn damn - ,”

“ _Okay!"_ Oliver shouts, his voice a tiny bit higher than usual. "Mommy’s right – bad word, it’s a bad, bad word.”

“Nuh-uh, no taksies backsies.”

“Anya, that is _still_ not how that works.”

“Who says so?”

“ _I_  say so.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Anya, I’m your father.”

“And I’m your daughter and Tommy’s your son and Mommy’s your wife and Aunty Thea’s your sister and Uncle Roy likes eating Chinese food.”

“What?”

Oliver stares incredulously at his baby girl, biting the insides of his cheeks to keep from smiling as he watches her nod her head in solemn affirmation at her stated points.

 “I thought we were saying things we know.”

“Wow Oliver, she really is your kid.”

“We  _know_ that Uncle Roy," Anya huffs in frustration. "I  _just_  said that.”

“What are they even arguing about?” Thea asks, gliding back into the room and adjusting the astronaut helmet on Tommy’s head before plopping down on the couch.

“Whether or not d-a-m-m-i-t is a swear word or not,” Felicity says from her spot next to Oliver, her words garbled by the licorice she stuffs in her mouth.

“Oh yeah,” Thea nods along with an air of great seriousness. She looks her nephew and niece dead in the eyes. “That is a  _very_  bad swear word. One of the  _worst._ ”

All the adults nod in unison, eyes trained specifically on Anya.

The small girl frowns at them all, her glare nearly rivaling the glower Oliver normally brandishes when taking on his green alter-ego, and for a second Oliver’s almost convinced that she’s right and he’s wrong.

Almost.

Anya huffs defeat before climbing into Oliver's lap and stares at her mother with her mouth open. Felicity sticks a piece of licorice between her teeth and Oliver grins sweetly at his daughter, laughing when she heaves out a dramatic sigh before ripping the candy in half and shoving it into his open mouth.

“This daddy is just  _unbelievable_ ,” Anya whispers loudly to the room, hand hiding her mouth from Oliver’s line of view and widening her eyes in emphasis of her statement.

Oliver can’t help the bark of laughter that he lets out – Anya had taken to referring to his as “this Daddy” and “that Daddy of mine” and, while her little eye rolls and frowns of annoyance are serious to her, they are by far the best parts of Oliver's day.

Because where Tommy is Felicity’s incoherent babbling and two left feet and wide-eyed amazement at everything and anything, Anya is all Oliver – right down to her very core.

He squeezes his daughter tightly in his arms, ruffling her small hybrid tiara pirate hat and tickling her sides before he smooshes kisses all over her face.

She’s squealing in laughter, and Oliver’s face is pure light as he motions for his baby boy to join the squirming pile of tickling torment.

Soon enough, it's Tommy who's racing across the room as fast as his toddling legs can carry him, and he’s almost there – he’s  _right_  there - before the foot of his oversized astronaut costume catches on the dining table and he falls face first into the carpet.

“ _Fuck_.”

“Tommy _, NO.”_

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading my dooders! Let me know what you think! :)


End file.
